Not Alone
by LilyBolt
Summary: Dean is facing a dark future and believes no one will care to help him in the end. He learns that he might be wrong about that after all. Takes place shortly after 9x18 "Meta-Fiction". Not a slash fiction. Written for GuestJ. (Now with Chapter 2, written for Er-BearG32.)
1. Safety Net

**WARNING: Spoilers for seasons 6, 7, 8, and 9 in general.**

**Author's Note: This is for the wonderful GuestJ, who gave me this promt:  
**

_**"Write a fic based on this question: Who will catch me when I fall?"**_

**Well here it is, posted on my last day of Spring Break! :) This takes place in season 9, sometime shortly after 9x17 "Mother's Little Helper". **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

* * *

Sam didn't seem to understand that Dean was only drinking because he felt like he was dangling over a deep, dark hole, and if he didn't do something then the fear of falling in would overwhelm him.

Alcohol was something.

Dean had also thought Sam was asleep, or else he wouldn't have cracked into the bottle of liquor in the first place. It wasn't like he was in the mood to have his younger sibling lecture him on why it was bad to be drinking his time away- as if it was just some unfortunate habit and not an act of defense against the onslaught of nightmarish concerns filling his head ever since he took hold of that blade and swung it at Magnus's throat.

But Sam wasn't giving Dean much choice as he launched into a diatribe anyway.

Once upon a time, Dean would have believed Sam was upset because he was worried for Dean's health. Now, however, Dean knew Sam's irritation was just that… irritation. He didn't like seeing Dean indulging in drink when he should be focusing on the job of tracking Abaddon down.

But that was the reason Dean was drinking in the first place, wasn't it?

Dean knew that finding Abaddon meant calling upon Crowley to hand him the First Blade, and then he would be reunited with the power source that had been haunting the back of his mind since he initially held it in his grip.

Even at the mere memory of the event, Dean's hand twitched- an involuntary reminder of how desperately his body wanted to feel that might once more.

And it scared him.

Dean looked up at Sam as he continued to scold him, but he wasn't hearing what the other man said. He was too distracted with his own thoughts- his desire to express his fear out loud to the one person he had always been able to talk to…

But he couldn't, because Sam lacked trust in him enough already after what had happened with Gadreel, and Dean didn't need to give him further cause to resent him. Besides, Sam probably didn't care if Dean was worried about this or not.

They were only partners now, right?

And partners didn't confide in each other their deepest fears. They didn't bother with that sort of connection. What would it matter to Sam if his partner completely fell apart? Partners could be replaced. It wasn't like he'd be losing a brother...

"Dean?" Sam's voice finally cut through the cloud of negative feelings, pulling Dean back to the moment.

"You're not even paying attention, are you?" the taller man huffed angrily.

Dean rolled his eyes, "I'm havin' a drink Sam, at ass-o-clock at night, not bothering anybody. Just let it go, would you?" he said, hoping that his brother would drop the subject.

Sam stared down at his sibling, and Dean could have sworn he saw a spark of the little brother he missed so much behind that gaze- a hint of the compassion and care he'd driven out with his own mistakes.

Then it was gone and Sam was heading for the bunker door.

"You know, I'm going out. I need to clear my head and so do you." He called over his shoulder.

A moment later the echo of the metal door closing filled the room and Dean was left alone with his thoughts.

**OoO**

It had been a couple hours since Sam left, and Dean had really let himself indulge in his craving for liquid relief.

The now empty whiskey bottle stood on the library table, surrounded by several empty beer cans and a brand new container of vodka, which Dean reached for, ready to open and enjoy.

Before he could break the seal there was a knock on the door.

Dean set the bottle back on the table and climbed out of his chair, grumbling about inconvenient interruptions. Still, he approached the stairway cautiously, knowing that Sam would not have needed to knock since he had the key.

"Who is it?" Dean called out when he reached the door.

"Castiel." A familiar gravelly voice replied from beyond the barrier, and immediately Dean was undoing the bolt.

When the door swung open Dean was relieved to see his friend appeared unharmed. Since visitation from the angel was rare, he had been momentarily worried that something had happened and that Cas needed help.

They stood in the doorway for a few seconds before Dean said rather awkwardly, "Uh…Come on in then." He stepped aside so his friend could enter.

Dean closed and locked the door behind them, following Cas as he walked down the stairs into the main room.

"So why're you here?" Dean asked when the angel said nothing, instead moving toward the library and the table covered in Dean's collection of glass and aluminum.

"I'm concerned that you are unwell." Castiel finally said, turning to face the Winchester.

Dean shrugged. "I'm never 'well' Cas, what else is new?"

The angel frowned. "Dean, if you could see the current state of your liver, you would understand my discontent. It is exhausted, and so are you."

Dean opened his mouth to make a comment about how incredibly creepy Cas's ability to monitor his internal organs was, but was cut off as his friend raised a hand to silence him.

"You are not sleeping, you are not eating, and your preferred choice of fluid intake is hardly providing decent hydration for your body." he said, gesturing to the small liquor store beside them. "I have known you a long time, Dean. Long enough to be aware that you go to war like this against your body when you are troubled in the mind. So I must ask, what is upsetting you?"

Dean wanted to make a sarcastic remark about Cas making a terrible therapist, or even to outright reject his friend's attempts to help him by informing him to mind his own business…

Except Dean _needed_ to talk, and the alcohol had loosened his tongue. Enough to where he found himself saying, "I'm not handling this man. This whole Mark thing. I just…"

He faltered for a moment, unsure of how to approach the topic of his feelings, and still self-conscious enough to be uncomfortable saying so much about _feelings_ in general.

Cas stared at him, gaze just as intense as ever. Yet Dean could see a willingness to listen there, so he started talking again.

"It's like I'm hanging above a pit. Not even just a pit, it's _The_ _Pit_. I hold that damn blade and I feel…It's just like it used to feel down there Cas. All that power and rage, and I want to stab things and hack and rip and…I know I have to kill the bitch at some point, which means I've got to touch that thing another time. And when I do I think I'll fall right down into Hell all over again. Who's gonna catch me when I fall, Cas? Because Sam won't and you shouldn't, and I've got nobody else left."

Dean stopped and took a deep breath, suddenly very aware of all that had just come pouring out of his mouth. He stared at the floor, not wanting to look Castiel in the eye and see the judgment he fully expected to be there. He shouldn't have said anything. He should have shut his mouth, and…

And when Castiel spoke, it wasn't the with words Dean expected.

"What do you mean I 'shouldn't' help you?" the angel asked, his voice sounding surprised.

Dean looked up then, finding Cas's penetrating stare still locked on target, though the angel looked confused and somewhat hurt by the idea that Dean wouldn't want his assistance. It reminded him of the expression Castiel had worn that day not long ago when Dean had let him down, telling him he couldn't stay with them...

"I'm sorry. Have I really told you that yet?" Dean replied, suddenly desperate to make amends for what had happened.

Cas just looked more confused. "I'm not upset that you shared your thoughts with me. I was asking about what you said because-"

Dean cut him off, realizing the angel hadn't understood at all.

"Cas, I'm saying that I'm sorry I kicked you out before. I wasn't there when you needed me. You_ literally_ fell and I didn't catch you. So I'm sorry."

A spark of comprehension lit behind Castiel's eyes and he replied, "Are you saying that I shouldn't want to help you now because you didn't take me in here at this bunker when I was human?"

Dean's silence was answer enough.

"Dean, it's my understanding that humans use phrases like "catch me when I fall" in a metaphorical sense, so why are you using a literal scenario that was outside your control to incriminate yourself?"

Dean still looked ashamed of himself, and Castiel was grateful for his reinstated angelic gift of emotional control, or else he might have shaken the man. Instead, he continued to speak to him in a level tone.

"I took the souls from Purgatory and became a monster. I murdered hundreds, and I betrayed you and your brother. Yet when the time came you were still there. You helped me to not only return the souls, but... I once told you I was afraid I would kill myself over the things I had done, and you were there to listen and turn me away from such self-destructive thinking. Now tell me, is that not the human definition of 'catching' someone who has fallen?"

The words of the angel took a moment to sink into Dean's mind, but when they did he felt a little better. Not fine, but better.

He knew himself well enough to know he wouldn't be _close_ to fine without Sam as his brother again...But at least now he knew he hadn't destroyed the best friendship he ever had, and that had to count for something.

"Our lives are messed up, you know that Cas?" Dean finally said with a smile, and he hoped that Castiel could tell he was thanking him.

Luckily for Dean, the angel had spent enough time with the Winchesters to recognize unspoken gratitude, so Castiel smiled back.

After a moment of silent eye-contact, Dean cleared his throat to signify the end of their little heart-to-heart.

"So, are you staying for a while then?" Dean asked.

"I have the search for Metatron to return to Dean." the angel said, his voice laced with regret.

Dean was slightly disappointed when his friend said he needed to go. Though he was loath to admit it, Dean had missed being able to talk with someone about his problems. He never realized how valuable Sam's emotional concern for him was until it was gone…

Some part of Dean's thoughts must have shown on his face, because Castiel added quietly, "He will help you too, Dean. You said he wouldn't, but you're wrong."

Dean gave a huff, not really believing what his friend told him.

"Dean, how do you think I knew to come here tonight?" the angel asked, staring at Dean with a piercing gaze.

Dean hadn't even considered that yet, but now that he thought about it, he realized he hadn't called Castiel or prayed…

Then it hit him.

"Oh." Dean replied, slightly surprised by the revelation that Sam had sent the angel to him.

Dean could picture Sam wandering the streets of Lebanon in the middle of the night, talking to the stars as he prayed for Cas to come check up on his brother. It seemed like something Sam would do- or something he would have done before Dean went and messed things up big time between them.

"He was worried that something was troubling you, as was evidenced by your increased alcohol intake, and he thought it would be more comfortable for you if you were to share your concerns with me." Castiel explained.

Then Dean remembered earlier, when he had caught what seemed to be a hint of care in Sam's eyes before the younger man left, and how Dean had ignored it because he was sure he had imagined it.

Maybe it really had been there, and maybe there was hope for them still.

"As I said. He _will_ help you." Castiel insisted, and this time Dean felt more inclined to believe him.

"Take care of yourself Cas" Dean finally said as he watched the angel head for the bunker's exit.

"You too, Dean." his friend replied pointedly.

The closing of the metal door echoed through the bunker for the second time, but it didn't leave Dean feeling quite as alone as it had hours before, and the bottom of that pit he worried about falling into felt less inevitable.

* * *

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Just a fun note, the title for this story is based on the song "Not Alone" by Red. It's a great song, if you're interested. :) Anyway, please feel free to leave feedback, because ****it is greatly appreciated. :D  
**

**Special Note To GuestJ: Thank you SO much for all of your support, and for the awesome prompts you toss my way! My gratitude is immeasurable. ;)  
**


	2. A Long Held Breath

**WARNING: Spoilers for season 9 in general. Also technically for seasons 2 and 5, but indirectly. **

**Author's Note: Er-BearG32 kindly requested that I write a second chapter to this story, in which, well, if I get into too much detail it'll give it away. But I was more than happy to oblige. :) I want to thank flygirl33, AJTish, ImpalaLove, jojospn, itsmunia, kingdommast, GuestJ, judyann, Vanessa Sgroi, and mb64 for their reviews on the first chapter. And thanks to every reader! :D**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural. :P**

* * *

Sam returned early the next morning while Dean was brewing a pot of coffee to help combat his throbbing headache.

The taller man wandered into the kitchen and sat down at the table where Dean could see him out of the corner of his eye, looking unsure if they were still in a conflict or not.

"Hey." Sam said, testing the waters.

"Hey." Dean replied tentatively before blurting out, "So Cas came by last night like you asked." Then he watched as Sam looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Did you talk to him about it?" the younger man asked.

"About me drinking too much? Yeah. The guy said something about how he could see my liver and 'it needed rest'. It was pretty weird, honestly." Dean paused, remembering the other part of their conversation. "But he helped, so thanks." Dean finished.

"Oh. Well that's...weird, yeah. But it's good he helped." Sam said, and Dean saw a flash of something close to disappointment in his brother's eyes. Why would he be disappointed?

Dean didn't have to waste time guessing because Sam suddenly added, "I thought he'd talk to you about the effects."

"Well like I said, he did talk about my liver." Dean replied, not sure why Sam had wanted their friend to give him a scientific description of what alcohol did to the body.

"The effects of the Mark, Dean, and the First Blade." Sam explained as if he were talking to a child, and Dean stopped cold.

"I thought he could talk to you about how to cope. I mean, I thought you'd rather talk to him about it since you didn't want to talk about it with me last night. Said I was interrupting your drink or something..."

Dean was speechless for a minute as a thousand thoughts ran through his head.

_You actually wanted to talk about the Mark with me? You really _did_ care enough to send Cas? You somehow thought I wouldn't want _your_ help?_

He settled for saying, "What do you mean you tried to talk about that with me last night? You were ranting at me about not drinking and I told you I wasn't bothering anyone with it. You didn't say anything about the Mark."

Sam frowned. "Wow, Dean. You really _weren't_ paying attention to what I said at all then, were you?"

Dean was on the defense automatically, but before he could say anything Sam was speaking again.

"I said drinking wasn't helping with your problem. You think I haven't noticed the way you've been acting since Magnus?" Sam clarified. "I said this to you last night but you were all spaced out. That's why I left! I was getting nowhere with you because you were just shutting me out."

"Oh _I'm_ shutting _you_ out now, huh?" Dean shot back, Sam's words digging at old wounds.

"Yes, Dean! That's the whole point!" Sam responded frustratedly.

This time Dean cut Sam off before he could state his defense. "Excuse me, but I'm not the guy who wants to be "partners" instead of family. And why would I think you'd care anyway? You said you'd let me _die._"

The elephant in the room was finally being addressed, and Sam just stared at Dean for a minute before he shook his head slowly, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You honestly don't listen well, do you? Do you _really_ think that's what I was saying, Dean?"

Dean glared at Sam, but already he felt hope stirring in his chest. "So what, you're saying that's _not_ what you meant?" he asked.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, how many times have I saved your life?"

Dean stared back blankly, not sure what his brother was getting at.

Sam sighed. "I've saved your skin a lot, and plenty of times it was while risking my own neck. Is that the sort of thing a guy does for someone when he doesn't care if they die?"

Dean kept staring at Sam, the hope in his chest building further.

"Dean, when I said I wouldn't do what you did, I said _in the same circumstances._ Meaning, if you were dying and telling me you were ready to go, I wouldn't force an _angel_ down your throat and lie to keep you around. I have more respect for you than that. Not just for your choices, but for your _ability_ to choose. Possession takes away self-control, and I don't expect you to understand that since it's never been_ you_ stuck with someone riding around in your brain, but I would have appreciated if you'd at least considered how much I'd hate to go through that again." Sam said, a hint of spite climbing into his voice. He had gone from sitting at the kitchen table to standing next to it, shaking slightly as the words he had suppressed for so long came tumbling out.

Sam took a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. "All the same, just because I wouldn't stuff an angel in you and make you stick around, or just because I've needed to be ticked that you did that to me, it doesn't mean I want you _gone_. You're can be a huge pain in the ass, but you're my brother and I don't want you dead. I never have and I never will." the younger man then went silent as he awaited his counterpart's response, eyes shining with emotion.

Meanwhile Dean was in shock, his mind racing to process everything Sam had just said.

First he had to wrap his brain around the notion that Sam did not actually want him dead, and more than just that, he had referred to Dean as his brother once more. The relief at hearing those words was intense, and Dean fought the urge to smile. Because that would be inappropriate, given the rest of what Sam had just told him.

The entire idea that Sam had resented Gadreel mainly because a third possession on his record was disturbing for the man had not actually crossed Dean's mind. Now he felt truly guilty, because what if it had been him forced to let someone 'ride around' in his head? And what if that had lead to the death of a friend at his own hand? He couldn't believe he was just now seeing things from this perspective, but like Sam said, Dean didn't know from personal experience what possession was like. Still, if he had only tried to see things that way earlier...

Dean could never say he'd have wanted Sam dead. In fact he'd have almost certainly still done all he could to stop that from happening. But perhaps he'd have tried a _different_ something. Perhaps there had been another solution after all, and Dean was in too much of a rush to bother trying to find it, even though it might have made a world of difference to his brother.

"Sammy, I'm sorry." Dean finally said. "I never..." he stopped, wanting to make sure he got this point across right. "I have one setting, and that's to keep you breathing. But I never think before I _do_."

Sam let out a sarcastic huff of agreement as if to say, _you think?_, but he didn't interrupt.

"I didn't even think twice about what possession meant for you. I mean, I knew you wouldn't say yes on your own, but I was just basing that off instinct from back when we were fighting the apocalypse. I wasn't thinking about...There were those times with Meg and Lucifer, but I just didn't_ think_." Dean stared his brother in the eye, now desperate for him to understand. "It's my fault you went through that again and I swear, I _am_ sorry. I won't say I would have just let you die. You know that I _can't_ say that and not be lying out my ass. But I can say I know I made the wrong call by letting an angel have at you."

Sam met his brother's gaze and for a moment they said nothing, just standing there in the acute quiet.

Suddenly the taller man moved forward and pulled his brother into a tight hug, and Dean nearly cried it was such a relief.

He gripped the shoulders of the other man firmly and thanked the God he didn't believe in for the fact that he finally had his brother back. And all it had taken was an apology, apparently.

"Thank you, Dean." Sam said over Dean's shoulder, his voice packed with all the affection that Dean had been missing the past few months.

"For what? For screwing you over royally?" the older Winchester joked even as his voice cracked with emotion.

Sam pulled back from the hug finally, eyes as watery as Dean's now were.

"For listening to me." he said, but then he corrected himself. "No. Actually, for _hearing_ me. It's been a while."

They were quiet for another moment as they regained their composure, but unlike so many of their recent silences, this one was not full to bursting with tension or animosity. This was a comfortable silence, like the release of a long held breath.

"I'm glad you wanted to talk today Sam." Dean finally said.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I wanted to talk to you _last night_, but you just shut down, remember? That's why I had to sic Cas on you."

This time there was humor in Sam's tone, and Dean laughed. "Yeah, well we've already established I suck at listening."

Sam laughed too. "So." he said. "_Do_ you want to talk about it?"

"About the Mark? Yeah, I actually do." Dean finally admitted.

Then the two brothers sat down at their kitchen table opposite one another and dove into a conversation about power and fear and Hell, but despite the darkness of the topic, Dean felt lighter than he had in weeks.

* * *

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please do leave feedback, as I sincerely appreciate it. :D**

**Special Note for Er-BearG32: Thank you for literally prompting me to write this second chapter! Also, thank you for all of your support and the incredibly entertaining conversations. ;)  
**


End file.
